


decoration

by eastern_wind



Series: seriatim [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Konan as Konoha shinobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 06:35:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18987241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eastern_wind/pseuds/eastern_wind
Summary: decoration | [dek-uh-rey-shuhn]noun1. something used for decorating; adornment; embellishment2. the act of decorating3. interior decoration4. a badge, medal, etc., conferred and worn as a mark of honor





	decoration

"No way in hell!" Yūgao sobs brokenly. Her fist slams into Aoba's solar plexus but the punch lacks power and he gently takes her bruised hand, cradles it to his chest like a wounded bird and waits. There's no way he can make it better so he does what he can by simply being here for her. Hayate wouldn't forgive him for leaving Yūgao alone now. She swears and throws another punch but he stands still. Her rage is mixed with sorrow when she finally gives in and lets him hold her as she weeps silently, burrowing her face in Aoba's shoulder. "They can-" she angrily hiccups, "they can stuff this damn medal where sun don't shine! It won't bring him back!"

Her tear stricken face is not pretty, Konan notes absently from her branch some ten meters away. It's been a long time she's been around living humans rather than megalomaniacs and walking corpses but the intricacies of normal human behavior still leave her at odds sometimes. She wonders if she should leave the girl to her grief and come back later but Aoba's yellow eyes meet hers above his everpresent sunglasses and there's something akin to plea in there. She shrugs and wills her paper to reform. It flares around Konan like a royal cape as she steps down onto the scorched earth of half destroyed Forty Eighth Training Ground with grace that used to make daimyōs bow and kneel before her. Yūgao doesn't move.

Times change but sorrow lingers underneath Konan's calm facade. She knows girl's pain acutely, half-wishes Suna invasion didn't happen, yet knows - outrunning fate was never in the cards of the men they've lost. Nimble fingers caress a small badge safely hidden under her green flack jacket, trace the outline of another, sewn into her hitaiate - always touching but forever out of reach - wistfully. It's been two years since Nagato passed away; May will mark fourteenth anniversary of Yahiko's death… She carries them with her still, did so as she spent a full decade undercover in falling apart Akatsuki, collecting intel for Konoha, does even now after Jiraiya-sama took the hat and ingrained their names on the memorial stone of the Leaf. Ame is no more, but Konoha has managed to crawl into her veins and is home now.

Yūgao will cry and curse, maybe swear revenge or drown her sorrow in a cup, Konan has been both. Yet one thing she knows for sure: if she can have just a small memento of her boys, her men with her - she wouldn't trade it for anything short of their resurrection.

"Accept it, Uzuki-san," she says and maybe there's something in the rustle of her paper-like voice - conviction or familiar sorrow - that makes the girl let go of Konan's teammate and whisper,

"What for?"

Warm southern wind brushes blue hair, plays with it gently the way angry cyclones of Ame never did, when the jōnin offers Yūgao a silver badge, Gekkō Hayate ingrained in the metal with sharp, precise strokes.

"Perhaps in honor of his sacrifice. Perhaps as a reminder of what you had."


End file.
